Michael Weller
"The Island for the Whites", Book VII, Chapter 48. THE "BLUE" RESERVATION.
Part one.

Episode Fortieth.    Killing Private Ryan

"Private Smith, tell me how your rapprochement with Private Ryan happened?"

"Well. When we were running crosses and forced marches, he tried to run beside me. He cheered me and offered help to carry something. I always refused, of course. I ran ahead, and he caught up with me with all his strength, suffocating himself, but kept staying closer.

"Also in the dining room, he always wanted to sit at the same table with me: he tried to change places with someone to get next to me, or to sit down the first shouting that he keeps a place for me. Or he approached me in his free time trying to treat me with something like cookies or similar.

"And then he complained to the sergeant that I was avoiding him not wanting to be friends with him because he is gay. And he threatened to file a report that there is homophobia in the platoon so that the sergeant would say goodbye to his position. Well, the sergeant yelled at me and ordered me to not avoid Ryan."

"How did your buddies behave?"

"Nothing about the buddies. Nobody wants troubles. They tried not to get into anything. They pretended as though nothing was happening. Everyone should be able to stand for oneself. It's like this: it's your problem, so you deal with it."

"OK. And how did you deal with your problem?"

"Well, how does one deal with it? I told him that I don't like it all. That I'm not like that. I said that I didn't condemn him, and let him not condemn me. I like girls. What's wrong about it. To each his own."

"Here you are! It was quite possible to explain calmly everything to a buddy, to your comrade-in-arm, one might say."

"The truth was that it was exactly the thing you could not."

"Why not? Calmly, politely, to explain everything."

"You see, Sir, he was an educated fellow. He studied at the university in Memphis, though he didn't graduate there for some reason. And his was long-tongued. And he was sticky, never leaving me alone. And he kept tweeting and screwing me, and shaming me that I was backward, that there is nothing wrong with that, that many great people were faggots."

"Private Smith!!!"

"Excuse me Sir! I meant homosexuals... Well, those ones… Same-sex… And many of them were persecuted, and there were suicides, but later all blamers repented, and their victims were rehabilitated, so that in general it was a tragedy. And he reasoned that if I reject him, I am a fascist and a homophobe. There is nothing wrong in a man-to-man love. On the contrary: it is noble and modern. And to refuse him means backwardness and disrespect for a buddy."

"Did you agree with him?"

"No way, Sir! Disagree. I'm sorry, Sir."

"Why?"

"Who cares what he wants. What if I don't like it? Do I owe him anything? Should I care that he likes me? What if he likes a cow: then what?

"And do you know what he argued for? For tolerance! I (he kept convincing me) must be tolerant of him – because everyone must be tolerant and respect habits and tastes of others. I say: therefore respect my tastes and habits! I am sick of you! Yet he is talking about his suffering, about the male love, and in general, how good it is. Yet the "wolves" … The straight people. i.e. normal men as he called … us… cisgenders,  they don't understand anything."

"And did you agree with him? Or not?"

"How could I agree with him if he just harassed me in every way?"

"Did you have ways to reject his harassment?"

"Yes Sir, I did."

"Report."

"When he grabbed me by the balls, I punched him in the face."

"You hit him, that is. Strongly?"

"Well ... On average. I broke his lip. It swallowed. His front teeth loosened, he said. He got into his mouth with the fingers making to believe as though they were shaking there, and kept frightening me that he is to sue me now. As though I committed a hate crime based on hatred towards sexual minorities, so that ten years imprisonment now is guaranteed to me."

"But you could have filed a report instead."

"That's what I have already done before! And the sergeant forwarded it to the lieutenant. And the lieutenant called me saying that he didn't want any troubles. That if I do not concede to that fag... Sorry, Sir! To private Ryan, Sir!... In short and straight, if I don't give it to him, then he would overwhelm everybody with complaints about homophobia, spoiling everyone's service, not to mention the career. One can even end up in a court, being expelled from the army… It's like pissing over two fingers ... sorry, Sir! I mean, it's very easy to get fired from the ranks, Sir."

"Well, then how did events develop further?"

"They developed in such a way, Sir, that Ryan said that he would fuck me anyway..."

"Smith!!!"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Report, what happened next?"

"And then, Sir, all the guys got on me. That I ruin the life of the whole platoon. And in order to calm down that Ryan, let I give in to him. I ask: would you give in to him? Who of you would allow him to fuck your ass – just to unhook him? Excuse me Sir, I'm excited. The guys however said – well, each one individually said: I would hell kill him if he dared to attempt. However, the laws are such that it is impossible!

"Sir, what kind of laws are there if a soldier can be fucked, while the law protects that fag?! Sorry, Sir; that gay, Sir. And the guys say: well, be patient, they will send us soon to fight, to Iran, or to Sudan, and you will calmly shoot him in the first battle. And no one will say a word to you. That's the way how it works."

"What would you say, Major?

"These guys, Mr. Colonel, always evade combat. They know what awaits them. They obtain excusing certificates, they find illnesses. Yet some commanders arrange it so that their tricks are useless, and they end up in a combat zone. And there they really often die, yet nothing can be proved."

"Thus, such an attitude among the personnel... must not take place! We are soldiers of the most advanced army in the world! The leading world power, so that ... The law is the law ... for everyone! Do you understand, Smith?"

"Yes, Sir! Understood, Sir!"

"And if you understand – then come on, round off! Finish your report rather than telling a novel here, like a kind of Shakespeare, you know. Briefly, exactly, and to the point. How did it end? Without all philosophies and snot!"

"We were in the shower, Sir. And somehow all the guys faded away all of the sudden, and he ... Ryan, that is ... was nearby, and somehow moving behind me. And he keeps mumbling: everything is fine, be not afraid, we are friends after all, everybody do it, it's only once, and that's all, I swear, and there are all sorts of words. And his penis was soapy, I noticed. Well ... and then ... There it was."

"More specifically, Private Smith."

"Thumb in the eye, knee in the groin, edge of the palm on top of the neck, Sir."

"More!"

"That's all, Sir."

"So you killed him?"

"Yes, Sir. Well ... It happened ... And what had I to do?"

"With your bare hands?"

"Yes… sort of… Sir."

"Did he fall?"

"Private Ryan? Yes Sir. He fell."

"And showed no signs of life?"

"What signs could there be if it crunched (as we were taught) giving in under a hand. What signs?! All signs that… It was a broken neck. It was his own fault, Sir."

"Major, who is their hand-to-hand combat instructor?"

"Master Sergeant Berger, Sir."

"Express him the gratitude and promote for the First Sergeant".

"Yes, Sir."

"What's your first name, Smith?"

"John, Sir!"

"Ah, Johnny-Johnny… Smith, you are Smith. Which IQ do you have?"

"Ninety-nine, Sir."

"Hum. You are a reasonable person; tall, with a good composition and good physical fitness. What did prevent you from strangling him at night and then hanging him in the toilet on his own belt as if it were a suicide?"

"I was afraid, Sir."

"OK. All is clear. There is no more time, gentlemen, lunch starts. Summing it up:

"Private Smith! For stupid behavior and indecision unworthy of a US soldier, I reprimand you.

"For decisive actions helping to clear the ranks of the US Armed Forces from demoralizing elements and good combat training I declare gratitude. Both the reprimand and gratitude are not to be entered into a personal record, nor are they to read out before the formations, nor being a subject for disclosure. Ryan must be reported as having died in his sleep of cardiac arrest following an intensive forced march.

"Smith! Were you only two in the shower when you hit him? Did anybody see what happened between you? So no one has seen. Well, so what the hell do you need?

Go serve further on. I think you have earned the highest reputation among your buddies.

"Yes, and unofficially, Johnny. Today you will go on leave – and you can get drunk. And pick up a girl. Relieve stress. This is useful. I hope that relationships with women are not disgusting to you so you will not beat her on the neck.

"Gentlemen! The meeting is over. Everybody are free."